eastbound | audio | un: chengmei

Those dead people-- They talk a lot. Always the same talk. [From the sound of it, he finds said talk pretty tedious.] Restless dead. Arha won't shut up. I think his woman is being a-- [The sound cuts out as something that sounds like a paper wrapper is rustled loudly right by the stone] Pissed him off. Someone did. So they talk abo--

[A sudden pause, and then there are some quiet sounds, much like a piece of hard candy would make when pushed into a mouth and moved around by a tongue.]

...it's not sweet.

[This, in fact, is way more alarming news than whatever else he may have been about to tell.]

Why isn't it sweet? What is this useless place?! Why can't I taste?!

[That went from zero to a hundred on the barely interested to intense anger scale, and then the voice starts getting quieter, as if its owner has just up and walked away.]

Daozhang? Daozhang! I need you~ Where is-- Ah, right.

[With that, the voice becomes louder again, evidently having decided this thing might still be useful after all. Together with the stone, he also pick up on his long abandoned train of thought.]

Ah! Right, right, I forgot to say~! They want to kill you. Dunno why. Loooots of blah blah.

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... It would figure that I hear this voice and the first things you're talking about involve murder and sweets.

( That the guy can't taste. Zero empathy from this corner, but ah, grand. )

So, finally, down to this. I won't say welcome, but—hello, you.

Ah, so ready to judge. Are you not too quick to that?

[Not that he is wrong... technically. None of the murder is his though! Yet.]

It's an honour. Who'd have thought that I'd get to meet you again?

[Not him. This dead thing is mostly less convenient than he'd have thought.

Aside from the taste.]

Yangyang, coming from you, that inclines one toward laughter.

( he claps his hands, however. )

You shouldn't have, but—since you're here, and shishu is, might I offer a sternly worded statement that you be on your non-night hunt in Yi City best behaviour while you're here, ah?

( Hyperreactive murderers are not what we needed more of but great for undead armies really. )

M-hm...

[He has quickly gotten the sense that he is being lectured and talked down to - the 'Yangyang' is an obvious sign - and while from the Yiling Laozu he takes it in stride, his tone, even in that small sound, is one of a student being scolded who could not possibly care less.

However, as he is busy not caring, his mind wanders, comes across an idea, and there is a spark in hks voice now.]

You are ever so skilful, laozu. Won't you help me taste?

( A pause, audible. And a humming note. )

Might be possible, here. We can look into it.

( Restoring a sense........... well. Xiao Xingchen was dead, and here was dead Xue Yang, and they're in a world overrun and ruled by the dead. he has enough of a headache with all that to want to stand there, post bear chasing, and rub his face nice. and. slowly. smearing around a probable blood rain's worth of precipitation. )

Taravast will have better resources. Let me take a look, you're clearly talking fine, can you smell?

...mostly blood. So.

[The shrug is audible in his voice as he lets that stand for a moment, he feels it speaks for itself. Hard to tell if he can truly smell or if blood is simply all he can sense. Between death and blood rain, it seems likely.]

This is different. This place. The energy. Whatever makes me be.

[He sounds excited, curious, rather than scared or even uncertain. He wants to figure this out!

And, yes, he wants to taste.]

The dead like me here. They let me listen. I wish they hadn't, it was dull.

[He has complaints.]

If you want exciting conversation, look toward Anurr.

( Not necessarily exciting, but there are degrees of awareness to dead individuals, he's found, in a very different way than back home. )

Mm, I'm curious, I'd been wondering... there's many energies here, they all work differently, so far some in opposition to each other.

( Let's be honest. One salient detail here is: Xue Yang's dead.

Wei Wuxian's been getting much, much better at handling the bodied dead. Which, though neither realise it yet, is something they don't share in their histories: fierce corpses versus puppets and resentful energies alone. )

Anurr. He put me together.

[As he says that, he waves his arm a little, which is a futile gesture, given only his voice can be heard.]

They are fast, for the most part. I wonder if they fight each other.

[Being dead, he does not mind, as long as he is himself and if only he could taste. But there are energies at work and he wants to understand them, not only as it means understanding himself.]

Could probably make them fight...

( He, unlike his partner in crime, neglects to remember all of his fleeting casualties. )

End us, how?

Then next to any of the conglomerates of the sins named undying overlords we've yet to meet, you've already spoken with the most interesting of the lot. Funny, then... what was your cost?

( They all fight each other. We're in zombie wars land, outside of any genre they've known before. )

Exactly what do you think Anurr does, ah?

Kill.

Don't you listen?

[The hypocrisy leaves his mouth without hesitation. No look back, no wave.]

Aish, pay attention!

Eh. Who cares?!

[The childish whine to his voice doesn't need the equally childish roll of his eyes to accompany it, but rest assured that it does happen.

Cost, though. There's a word. Maybe something is of interest after all.]

...what's it to you, laozu?

Through what means?

Slaughtering.

Bloody slaughtering.

Painful, bloody slaughtering.

[It's like horrible word association.]

Sword, then.

Professional curiosity, and contact awareness with Anurr, ah? You've been here how long. The winds back west sang songs of vengeance and cold, while the one for hunger was silenced for a while.

( No, really, Archeval ate Unhalad's spirit, so to speak, Hunger Games Undead are on pause. )

You, think. What else is different? Only taste?

Ah, who knows? There are hands and nails and mouths and teeths, there might be more weapons and more ways...

The dead understand it well. Killing.

[And he sounds so serenely at peace with that knowledge.]

They know you overheard?

Not long at all.

[A significant portion of which spent staring at the wonder that is Xingchen moving, talking, living. Existing for him to watch and touch and be near.

And while Xingchen had told him stuff, he has barely listened. In his defense, the man is an abysmal story teller.]

My mind is unchanged. Not slowed at all. Not clouded. Not for a moment.

[Not more than usual, anyway.]

And it is mine alone.

No. They know little. Almost as if they were alive.

[They did know he heard, but they didn't know who or what he was. He decides that negating their knowledfe is close enough to the truth.]

Fascinating.

( Not a mockery. Genuine interest, because he wonders if that means letting in, accepting the curse that changes, is so separate from necromancy here. He'd suspected as much months ago, but this is again confirmation. )

Your energy flows naturally as well?

Energy. Yes.

Come and feel me, laozu. Maybe even my golden core is complete.

[The way he talks makes it sound like a trap, but then, that i simply how he talks more often than not. Who's to say?]

Withdraw.

Write more.

( you know, he had very limited times dealing with Xue Yang and how he talks, and much more time of hazy to him now memory of Xue Yang around Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing. So yes, this is exactly... what he'd expect.

Tiresome. Also a little bit funny, since it is more provocative speech for zero benefit and... what. )

I'm more concerned about wholeness of souls.

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